Poetry

The Feasting of the Pitcher

Dive into my belly,

you quick-footed buzzing fool.

Let me trap you

among my garden of dead.

No more flitting from

place to place, never

content to rest for more than a day.

Leaving only trails of disease

behind, why would they ever appreciate you?

Let me drown you,

so that your dull hum is finally

silenced.

No-one will mourn you,

but I promise to stand forever

as your monument.

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